


Fly with Me

by LadySilviana



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eliot has Wings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot, Reunion Sex, Shameless Smut, Slash, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilviana/pseuds/LadySilviana
Summary: An AU ending to book 1, where Eliot comes by himself to get Quentin from his office in New York, sporting a pair of wings (as he does in the book). All proceeding events are the same except that Eliot and Quentin are together. The results? A half Fluff-half Angst reunion followed by... a whole lot of stuff.





	Fly with Me

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, I don't know what prompted this aside from wanting to write about Eliot with wings which resulted in a bit of a show/book mashup with kind of an ok story that's mostly just an extended sex scene. Enjoy! Oh and- I don't own the Magicians, etc.

Quentin had been preparing to go on his lunch break when the wall sized window of his office shattered. The glass broke in an almost apologetic manner, without even flying all over the place. It was as though all the separate particles of the window instantaneously decided to disintegrate and the whole thing simply collapsed in a heap of sparkling dust unto the floor of the office. Almost like the feat was done with magic.

Which, of course, it was.

Without missing a beat, Quentin jumped up from his office chair, his fingers flexing and the words of a spell ready upon his lips. Carefully, he approached the edge of the room and looked out upon the high Manhattan skyline. Not seeing anything directly in front, Quentin looked down.

“Are you going to pulverize me little magician?”

It was Eliot. He was floating on air just below the edge of the window, his brown curls getting blown about in the wind, a mischievous smile on his face. He was dressed in some white, form fitting Fillorian attire.

He had wings.

“Jeesus, El…” Quentin took a step back into his office mesmerized as Eliot flew up with a graceful sweep of his wings and stepped unto the ledge after him. He almost seemed to sparkle, although it was probably the broken glass refracting the light behind him.

Stupidly, the only thing that Quentin could think of saying at the moment was- “You’ve got wings!”- It was just such an astounding sight!

“Yes, and you have a man-bun,” Eliot smirked as he walked over to him, long fingers reaching out to tug playfully at the said man-bun. “And a spiffy, gray businessman suit.”

Eliot frowned and felt the material of the suit with his hands, sliding them down Quentin’s shoulders and leaving them to rest on the smaller man’s upper arms.

“Armani?” Eliot seemed slightly impressed. “Since when did you decide to invest in some nice clothes?”

“I have a shit-ton of money and even more free time working at this place,” Quentin laughed, leaning into Eliot’s hands. The space between them was charged with energy, the way it always was when they were together. Quentin had almost forgotten how it felt to be touched by him. Almost.

“Ahh, it would appear that this office life has been at least somewhat to your benefit,” Eliot’s eyes held Quentin’s captive, their ember warmth bringing back a swarm of blocked out feelings. “It’s a shame that you’ll have to leave the glorious corporate business behind and come back to Fillory with me.”

Quentin let out a sob and closed the distance between them, falling into Eliot’s arms and burying his face in the taller man’s chest. He didn’t want to cry, but the tears welled up anyway, wetting Eliot’s incredibly soft, white shirt. Up until this point he didn’t allow himself to dwell upon how much he has missed this- how much he had missed _them_. After all, he imposed this exile upon himself, unable to deal with how everything had played out. Alice’s demise, Julia’s anger and hurt. He felt like it was all his fault. When he had come to several months ago at the centaurs’ retreat he was almost glad that Eliot hadn’t been there. He would not have been able to deal with seeing his lover then, not when he had felt so guilty over what had happened. So he ran away- back to earth- because Fillory and Eliot were better off without him.

Eliot stood there holding him for several long minutes as Quentin sobbed, stroking his back reassuringly. Finally, when the tears subsided, Eliot pulled back from him slightly and grasped Quentin’s chin, bringing his head up to look at his face. Quentin’s brown eyes were glistening, every raw emotion imaginable reflecting from them up at Eliot.

“I am so sorry, Q. I should have been there when you woke,” Eliot said, “I didn’t want to leave- it almost killed me to do so. But Margo was right- we needed to go take care of the kingdom. Even after the Beast had died everything was still such a fucking mess.”

Quentin shook his head violently.

“No, don’t- Eliot none of it was your fault. I just- I couldn’t live with myself after what had happened. If I had done things differently Alice would have survived and Julia could have killed Raynard and fuck, I don’t know. Why would you fucking want me after all that? I fucked it all up.”

It was Eliot’s turn to shake his head.

“Quentin- there is nothing you could have done differently. Alice- Julia- they knew what they were doing. They knew what the consequences were. You cannot hold yourself accountable for their lives.”

Eliot pulled Quentin back into an embrace, leaning his head down and brushing the younger man’s nose with the tip of his own- their own private and intimate gesture. “And don’t give me this bullshit about me not wanting you. I fucking tracked you down to this Manhattan shithole- and I will tell you now Fogg did not want to tell me where you were. But I made him. And I flew up here all white and pristine like a fucking angel. I grew some fucking wings,” he twitched the wings for emphasis, “all to come sweep King Kwentin off his feet and tell him that his High King commands that he fly back to fucking Fillory with him.”

“I missed you. _So. Fucking. Much!_ ” Quentin couldn’t take it any longer, closing his eyes he grabbed hold of Eliot’s head, burying his hands in the other’s curls, and slammed their lips together. It was a hungry and desperate kiss, both of them biting and sucking at each other’s lips, tongues ravenously stroking and exploring their mouths. It was a long while before they broke apart, both breathing heavily, their lips and cheeks red and flushed. When their eyes met this time they were kindled with sparks of desire. Quentin felt it awaken abruptly in his body, coiling with intense urgency in his stomach- a hunger that only Eliot could awaken and only Eliot could quench.

“Hmmmm, funny,” Eliot’s voice took on that husky edge it got when he was turned on, “there was so much more that I wanted to say when I saw you. But all I could think of anymore is how much I want to be inside you.” To emphasize his point, Eliot rocked his hips forward to grind against Quentin’s, pushing the younger man up against his office desk. Quentin moaned as he fell back on the desk, legs spreading so that Eliot could grind deeper against him. Eliot’s hands came up to slide along Quentin’s torso, pulling his dress shirt out from his pants as he went along. His deft fingers worked open the buttons and pulled the fabric apart to reveal skin, proceeding to caress it. Eliot traced the treasure trail on Quentin’s stomach with a smile, laughing when the younger man jerked at the touch like he always did. He then moved his hands up, grazing Quentin’s ribs softly several times before traveling to the chest. Eliot let one hand remain there, passive and gentle, as the other found Quentin’s throat, fingers wrapping around it and pressing down firmly. Quentin’s eyes widened and he arched his back, whimpering in Eliot’s grip, his cock stiffening mercilessly inside his gray work pants. Eliot surveyed the image, drinking in the sight of his lover under him, happy that after all these months apart he still remembered how to arouse Quentin beyond the point of no return.

Still gripping Quentin’s throat, Eliot bent down to lick a line across the other’s bottom lip, nipping it lightly.

“You know I’ve always had this fantasy about fucking a businessman in his office,” Eliot whispered. It was, in fact, true. The scenario had been an odd but lucky coincidence. Eliot grinded down again, feeling the press of his erection against Quentin’s. He felt the sudden, maddening urge to rip off their pants so that he could feel their skin meld together, soaked in precum, and knew that Quentin was thinking it too.

“Should I do it, Q? Will you let me fuck you like this on your office desk? With your coworkers just outside your door? With this fucking window broken to shit so that we’re probably on goddamn display from the building across the way?” Eliot’s voice lost its edge as his breath quickened and the grinding of his hips picked up speed and he knew he sounded like he was begging. Well, fuck it, maybe he was.

“Ye- yess. God dammit, YES!”- Quentin gasped, moving with Eliot’s rhythm, his arms flailing back behind his head, sending multiple office supplies flying down from his desk to clutter loudly unto the floor. He laughed, suddenly giddy and said- “you know, if anyone can see us this probably looks like some messed up cosplay fantasy.”

Eliot laughed with him, giving his wings a shake.

“Yeah, I suppose it does,” he breathed against Quentin’s lips, “a really hot cosplay fantasy.”

Then he was kissing him again, more slowly now, each stroke of his tongue carefully calculated and teasing. Eliot caught Quentin’s tongue softly with his teeth and sucked it leisurely into his mouth, enjoying how his lover squirmed against him in response. Eliot’s hands travelled downwards, reaching Quentin’s belt and tugging at it playfully.

“You ready to get fucked, Q?” He said with a ravenous smile.

The other man bit his lip and shook his head at him.

“Mmmm, I don’t think so,” Quentin’s voice was raspy but firm and Eliot felt a twitch in his cock as he recognized the younger man’s commanding tone. “You’re going to suck me first, El. You are going to remind me what your lips feel like wrapped around my cock.” Grabbing hold of Eliot’s curls, which were by now already impossibly disheveled, Quentin pushed the taller man down between his legs. Never taking his eyes off of Quentin, Eliot came to his knees before him, unbuckling the other’s belt and sliding his pants and underwear off as he went down. They both groaned when Quentin’s shaft sprung free of the fabric, so hard that it curled upward against his stomach, throbbing violently and leaking juice. Eliot adjusted Quentin’s legs so that they rested over his shoulders and laughed when Quentin jumped at the sensation of his feathered wings brushing against his knees. He leaned forward then, catching the tip of Quentin’s cock with his lips, swirling his tongue around it and tasting the bittersweet precum in his mouth.

“I love it when you get this hard for me,” Eliot pulled back, teasing, but Quentin was having none of it. Tightening his grip on Eliot’s hair, Quentin forced his mouth down unto his straining erection, thrusting his hips up roughly until his shaft hit the back of Eliot’s throat. Eliot gagged, surprised, but adjusted himself quickly, fervently sucking at Quentin’s length. He hollowed his cheeks, creating tight suction around the shaft and ran the tip of his tongue along the underside as he began to move his head rhythmically up and down. Quentin whimpered, his hands clenching and unclenching in Eliot’s hair, thrusting up into the other man’s mouth as he worked up and down the spasming length of his cock.

After a while, Quentin felt himself get weak and dizzy, thankful that he had the desk and Eliot for support. An especially thorough stroke of Eliot’s tongue made his head spin and Quentin gasped, letting go of his lover’s hair and falling back once more on the desk. This time his shoulder hit something solid and sent it flying back- Quentin presumed it was his monitor. The resulting crash was embarrassingly loud and Quentin would have maybe cared except at that moment Eliot’s lips moved off his cock and found his balls, which he sucked gently into his mouth. At the same time, Eliot moved a slender finger lower down, tentatively tracing the outside of Quentin’s opening, which was already moist from dripping precum and saliva.

It was such a subtle movement, yet Quentin felt his abdomen and thighs contract in response, a warning that this might all be over quickly. Not ready for it to end yet, Quentin clenched his legs, lightly but insistently pushing Eliot away. He breathed hard and, closing his eyes, counted to ten in his head, waiting for the threat of an orgasm to subside. When he was sure he could continue, he opened his eyes once more and found Eliot’s, who was still kneeling expectantly between his legs. At some point the drawstrings on Eliot’s Fillorian trousers had been hastily unlaced, exposing his prominent erection,which the taller man stroked lazily while looking over at Quentin, his eyes glazed with lust. Quentin knew what he was waiting for.

“Ok-ok,” Quentin’s voice was husky. “Fuck me, El. Now. Just… bend me over this desk and fuck me.”

Eliot smiled at him and gracefully stood up, grabbing Quentin by the collar and bringing him up with him, locking their lips together in another kiss. This kiss was gentle, almost chaste. Their lips grazed each other lightly, the mere tips of their tongues touching. Eliot kept a hold on Quentin’s collar, pulling the smaller man up on his toes. He rolled his hips in a slow motion, making his aching erection slide against Quentin’s wet cock and they both gasped at the sensation.

“Bend you over?” Eliot repeated lazily, “this wouldn’t have something to do with that large mirror on the other side of your desk would it?”

“Yes,” Quentin bit at Eliot’s lips, “I want to watch as you fuck me. I want to take in everything”

Eliot’s response was quick. In seconds he had spun Quentin around and bent him over the desk, an arm wrapped tightly around his hips. He could see their reflections in the mirror, Quentin watching him with rapt anticipation, his eyes going suddenly wide when Eliot slid two fingers leisurely inside him and gave them a twist.

“Still as tight as ever,” Eliot’s fingers were pumping methodically now, loosening him up, occasionally sliding in deeper to rub against his prostate.

“Ah, Eliot… second… drawer on the left-” Quentin managed to get out through barely suppressed pants while grinding his hips back against Eliot’s fingers.

The drawer flew open seemingly by itself- a trick accomplished by Eliot’s telekinetic powers.

“Keeping a bottle of lube at the office, Q?” Eliot chuckled with amusement, reaching for the bottle. “Have you been fucking boys in here?”

“No-noo, El!” Quentin gasped. In the reflection, he could see Eliot coating his erection with the lube behind him. “It’s an office thing- people just… masturbate here. I didn’t at first but then… fuck, the boredom got to me and - ahhh-” he was cut off abruptly by the feeling of Eliot’s blunt head pushing open his hole.

“Did you think about me when you fucked yourself?” Eliot slid in a bit further inside Quentin, letting the other man get used to the feeling of his cock once more.

“Mmmm- yes! All the time- just you,” Quentin mumbled and tried to slide himself down unto Eliot’s length with quiet desperation, needing to be filled up by him. With infuriating calmness, Eliot prevented him from doing so, pulling out a bit and smirking at Quentin’s frustrated noises.

“And you didn’t fuck anyone else? Why?” Quentin knew Eliot was teasing - he knew goddamn well why, he just wanted to hear him say it. Their eyes met in the reflection and there was a moment of quiet seriousness when they were both still.

“Because it wouldn’t be the same. Because you’re the only one I want- the only one that I want to touch me like this. No one else could satisfy me.”

Eliot thrust himself all the way inside Quentin in one long, smooth stroke. The time to hold back was over. Quentin felt himself stretched so impossibly, wonderfully wide- gods, he’d forgotten how incredible this was! He could feel every hard inch of Eliot’s erection filling him up to the core, making him quiver when the taller man slid out, then pushed back in, working to build a pumping rhythm. Quentin thrust his hips backwards eagerly to meet Eliot’s cock, letting his body relax so that his opening could loosen and take it in even deeper. His head dropped down hitting hard against the desk, white knuckled hands grasping desperately to the edge of the wooden surface. Right away, Quentin felt Eliot’s fingers in his hair, gripping tight and pulling his head back up, making him look at the mirror.

“You said you wanted to look- so look! Look at yourself taking my cock,” Eliot commanded coolly- play acting boredom, which was a long standing game with them. Eliot knew Quentin loved it when he used that tone in bed with him. He kept his hand fastened in Quentin’s hair, holding the other magician’s head up so that he couldn’t look away from the mirror again.

Quentin thought passingly that he looked like a wreck. His dress shirt and blazer were half off and crumpled, one shoulder completely exposed. His elastic had gotten lost somewhere in the process and his hair was absolutely everywhere, falling over his face and sticking to his sweat-soaked skin. And then there was the sight of Eliot behind him..

Eliot had brought up a leg to brace it against the desk, assuming a lunging position as he fucked Quentin harder and harder. His face was flushed and he was biting his lip so hard that he’d torn through the skin and could taste blood. His white-feathered wings shuddered with every thrust he took and Quentin thought that he looked like some wild and maniacal angel. The picture was both obscure and beautiful at the same time. Quentin’s cock began to throb convulsively in response to the pressure on his prostate from Eliot’s shaft. He knew he couldn’t last much longer. The next time Eliot plunged his erection down inside him, Quentin started clenching around it, sucking it back in when the other man attempted to pull out. Eliot’s eyebrows shot up in slight shock and he let out a long gasp.

“Oh, no, Q- not yet-”

But Quentin couldn’t hold on anymore. With a violent muscular spasm, he went over the edge, feeling the wetness of his explosion drench his stomach and trickle down over his thighs. The convulsions resulting from his orgasm made his ass clench even tighter on Eliot’s shaft and Quentin rolled his hips back, urging his lover to come inside him. In the mirror, he saw Eliot’s back arch, his head falling back exposing his throat. Eliot managed to get in one last rough thrust, the force of it making Quentin’s hip bones collide painfully with the desk, and then he was coming too. Quentin felt the warm fluid erupt inside him in a pulsating cascade from Eliot’s cock.

They both fell heavily unto the desk, their legs shaking and giving out under them. Eliot collapsed on top of Quentin, virtually crushing him between his body and the desk. Strangely, the pressure felt pleasant to Quentin as he lay over the hard wooden surface, basking in post-orgasmic warmth. Eliot’s obscene angelic wings folded around them, brushing softly against Quentin’s arms and face while Eliot’s mouth rained small kisses on his exposed shoulder, his neck, his ear and jawline, like he couldn’t get enough of him.

“Oh my fucking ...god! Q- I could feel that in the fucking tips of my wings!”

“What the orgasm?” Quentin’s voice was muffled by the desk.

“Yes- it was so- bizarre… and kind of awesome. I wonder if that’s how birds feel like when they fuck?”

The thought seemed ridiculous for some reason. They both laughed.

After what seemed like eternity, Eliot slipped himself out and away from Quentin, arching his back and stretching. He extended a hand and summoned a box of kleenex, which jumped out at him from behind the desk, having earlier fallen off along with everything else.

“Let’s put ourselves back together shall we?” Eliot proceeded to clean himself up, tucking in and fixing his clothes before moving to do the same for Quentin, who had slid unceremoniously to a half sitting position on the ground. His bones still feeling gelatinous, Quentin let Eliot take care of him and the taller man wiped him clean and helped him carefully back into his clothes. His business suit was wrinkled, probably beyond repair, but it didn’t even matter. They were going back to Fillory.

“Anything you need to grab from here?” Eliot waved a dismissive hand around the wrecked room.

“No,” Quentin said, looking intently at him with a smitten smile. “I have everything I need.”

“You are such a sap, Q,” Eliot said this softly and leaned over, grasping Quentin’s face between his hands and kissing him lovingly.

Quentin’s ears caught a strange sound and he realized that there was knocking on his door that had been going on for quite sometime now.

It was clearly time to get out of there.

Eliot seemed to think the same thing. He stepped to the edge of the window, wings stretching and preparing for flight, and held out his hand to Quentin.

“Let’s fly,” the tall magician said.

Quentin walked over and grabbed the proffered hand.

Together they stepped over the edge and flew.


End file.
